Page 29 of Eclipsed Legacy

“Mel, get your extra clothesline and bring it to me,” I command. Surprisingly, she doesn’t argue. Instead, she gets up and hustles down the hall. Perhaps, she wanted any excuse to get out of the room. I wonder if she will take her time, but she returns seconds later. She holds out the bundled rope for me to grab, and I take it. I’m still staring at Aaron, who Ricky holds in a chair. Perfect.

I walk over and roughly nudge Ricky out of my way before wrapping the clothesline around Aaron and tying it in as many knots as I know. As I am working my way through one of the last knots, I say, “Mel, call Uncle Carl.” She doesn’t respond, but I hear her pull out her phone and walk into the other room. With the knife still in my hand, it takes a little longer to finish, but Aaron isn’t going anywhere.

Taking a deep breath, I brace myself for what I am about to do. For me, torture had been an uncrossable line. Just hours ago, I superiorly condemned the practice. But faced with the coward who manipulated my cousin and murdered my grandmother in her own home, that line is gone. Perhaps, I’ll cross so far over any and all moral lines that I’ll forget they ever existed. I should probably care, but I don’t. I’m hungry for blood, for vengeance. Part of me wants to argue that it’s for the sake of my family, for their protection, and while that may be true, it would be a lie for me to say I wasn’t getting pleasure from the thought of making this man suffer. Just like he made her suffer.

I turn my attention to my hands and play with the knife, running my fingers gently over its blade. “You seem to like talking,” I say to Aaron simply. He snorts, but I don’t acknowledge it. “I’m going to give you the opportunity to keep talking, and if you don’t—” I look up at him “—I’ll cut you.” He smiles at me, but his sarcastic grin doesn’t meet his eyes. He already said it: he’s dead, but that reality seems to only now be sinking in. Good.

I hear Mel reenter. “He didn’t answer,” she says quietly. Inwardly, I curse, but I don’t acknowledge my frustration out loud.

“Why has your pack targeted us?” I demand of Aaron

“We haven’t—” I reach out with the knife, swiftly drawing it across his shoulder.

“I forgot to tell you the rules,” I say in an overly chipper tone, but then narrow my eyes. “Don’t lie, and don’t bullshit me.”

“We haven’t—” he repeats, and without a word, I slowly draw a matching line of blood across his other shoulder. Aaron bares his teeth and winces from the pain. I hear Ricky draw in a breath, wincing, too. Part of me wants to stop; part of me says this is wrong. I silence that part.

Aaron is quiet for a moment before he swallows. “Raina used to be part of Totius— that’s our pack,” he adds. “She had been wandering around, had no pack, so our old alpha took her in. She was fifteen then. After a while, she ran off, and no one could find her. She wasn’t a member long, but you don’t just leave Totius.” Aaron closes his eyes before exhaling through his nose. “The old boss stopped looking after a year; said she wasn’t worth it.” He nearly spits the last part. “But my Uncle Nathaniel, our current alpha—” it seems like he is trying to name drop as if I will care about his connection to Totius’s leader “—never stopped looking, said the bitch stole from him.”

I don’t allow the bitch comment to get to me. I’ll save that anger for later. “What did she steal?”

He shakes his head.

“What did she steal?” I repeat louder than before, stabbing the knife into the chair next to Aaron’s head.

“It didn’t make much sense to me. He said she stole his ‘legacy and talisman.’” Aaron changes his voice to mimic his alpha’s deeper voice and briefly glances at the necklace hanging between my breasts. “That’s all I know,” he says. For some reason, I believe him.

The room is quiet. Deathly quiet. I can hear the ticking of the clock over the television, as well as a fly buzzing in the kitchen. Even the commercial on the television is at low volume. It’s time.

“Do you have anything you would like to say before…”

Aaron nods before turning to Mel. “I’m a dirty son of a bitch. I flattened your tire and had you wrapped around my finger before I even fixed it. You were way too easy to use and to fuck…so easy it pissed me off! But damn if you weren’t sweet!” I want to deck the fucker, but Ricky beats me to it. Aaron licks his busted lip, but continues, “It was you who told me when your grandma would be home. Did you know that? Don’t be so naïve next time, darlin’. You don’t need any more pain than what I’ve already caused you. In another life, maybe I could’ve stayed to love you like I do.”

“That’s enough,” I say, lifting the knife.

“Tala, stop!” Mel says, tears streaking her face. She rushes forward and takes the knife from me. The bastard needs to die, but I don’t fight her. I can’t fight Mel. She places her hands on either side of Aaron’s face, knife still in her right hand, before kissing him passionately on the lips. He responds in kind, and she draws closer, practically sitting in his lap. I’m just about to break it up, and sensitively remind her what he’s done, when Mel draws her face back and drops her right hand as her left thumb tenderly rubs back and forth across Aaron’s cheek. “I really love you,” she says before making a choking sound and putting her head down. I stand to draw her away, but she lifts her head to gaze at Aaron before saying, “Rot in hell,” and veering the knife upward through Aaron’s armpit and piercing his heart.

Chapter 12

Mel collapses to the floor, sobbing at Aaron’s feet. Ricky’s face twists in pain, and I know it isn’t for himself. Gently, I place a hand on Mel’s shoulder. When she doesn’t shake it off, I get on the floor with her and hold her tightly as sobs rock her form. She leans into my shoulder, crying harder than before. Ricky sits on the couch with his head down. None of us say anything for what seems like hours. Ricky finishes his beer and then another, and another, as the clock ticks on.

Her tears cease, and Mel pulls away from me. “I’m sorry,” she says.

I shake my head. “Don’t be. He used you. That’s not your fault.”

Mel raises an eyebrow. “I let him. He was right; I was naïve and fell too easily. I was putty in his hands. It’s my fault that Grandma’s dead.”

I look down for a moment. “Mel,” I say, meeting her eyes, “I know it’s hard to see it now, but they would’ve gotten the information they needed with or without you. Grandma was always home. People who barely knew her know that.”

She nods, but I know she doesn’t mean it.

“Ricky?” Mel says accusingly as she stands. The dramatic shift has me concerned. That’s usually my thing, not Mel’s. I stand as well, nervous about what she’s going to do.

Ricky puts his head up. “Yeah?” he asks, his mouth forming a confused O as he shifts on the 1970s yellow couch.

Mel folds her arms. “Why were you so close with Aaron?” she asks.

“I wouldn’ say we were close—”